


When the Opportunity Arises

by alpha_exodus



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M, Sex Toys, implied top!Harry with previous partners, swearings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-10
Updated: 2015-04-10
Packaged: 2018-03-19 20:30:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3623262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alpha_exodus/pseuds/alpha_exodus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A simple favor for Hermione turns into a whole slew of events that Harry never quite anticipated. But with Draco Malfoy running a sex shop and Hermione's meddlesome tendencies, he should probably have expected this sort of outcome.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When the Opportunity Arises

**Author's Note:**

> **Author's Notes:** First of all, thank you so so much to the mods for being wonderful and putting this fest on! Secondly, thank you to my betas: calypso_mary, and especially thethaumas for doing a really last-minute pre-deadline beta. All my love.  <3
> 
> My dear prompter, capitu—I hope you enjoy this very much! Your prompt was the first one on the list, and I knew immediately that it was the one I wanted to write for. I tried to make it just as sexy as the prompt called for ;)

“Harry! I’m glad I caught you!” Hermione’s voice echoed down the hall. She waved her hand at him, her steps quickening as she rushed down to where he had just been leaving his office for lunch. “Could you do me a huge favor?” She gasped slightly, out of breath, and readjusted the large pile of papers she was holding.

“Sure, what is it?” Harry agreed, clicking his door shut and spelling the wards into activity with a flick of his wand. Being high up in the ranks of the Auror squad had its perks, and having his own office was one of them.

“I was supposed to pick up a present for Ron and I's anniversary tonight, but I completely forgot about it when I took my break! And the departmental meeting starts in ten minutes, and they always take _forever_ , so by the time I’m out, it’ll be nearly five, and I have to get ready for our dinner because we have a reservation,” she said very quickly, worry and exhaustion in her eyes.

“And you want me to pick it up for you,” Harry stated with a grin. When was there ever a time when Hermione _wasn’t_ too busy for something? He had grown accustomed to doing little favors for her over the years when she needed help. In return, she used her resources and wit to keep the press off of his back.

“Yes, if you could? Thank you so much, Harry!” Hermione hugged him, her hair pressing against his face. Its familiar smell filled his nose.

“Any time, ‘Mione,” he patted her on the back, taking care to avoid crushing her papers. “Do I need to buy it? Which shop is it from?”

“Oh, I had already ordered it. All you have to do is tell them that you want to pick up a delivery for me, I’m sure they’re aware that we’re friends. And, the shop…” An odd, shifty expression appeared on her face for a moment, but then she leaned over to fish something out of her robe pockets. He decided that he had been imagining it. “Here, I’ll write down the address for you, it’s not in a well-known area.” She pulled out a piece of parchment and a self-inking quill, juggling her paperwork so that she could write properly. “The shop is on Crossings Way, you know, the street parallel to Knockturn?”

“Right, I’ve seen it, but I don’t think I’ve been down there,” he nodded, taking the bit of parchment when she was done. “I’ll put it in your office when I get back?”

“That would be brilliant. I’ll tell my secretary to let you in. Thank you again!” She flashed a grin at him, and then she was off down the hallway in a whirlwind of robes and curly hair.

-X-

869 Crossings Way. Blinking at Hermione’s neat, loopy handwriting, he looked up to the shop in front of him. This was definitely the address, but maybe she had written it wrong? Though it wasn’t like Hermione to give incorrect instructions, he glanced around at the nearby buildings anyway. None of them seemed to be shops—they were mostly office buildings, from what he could tell. The street was nearly empty, neat hedges and colorful flowerbeds lining the walkway. If only Hermione wasn’t in a meeting, he could Apparate back and ask if this was really the right place…

Because the store that he stood in front of was unmistakably a sex shop. From the elegant placement of the scantily clad mannequins to the artfully displayed dildos, it was obvious what types of wares were sold there. “ _Carnal Desires_ ”, the gracefully scripted sign on the door read. “Sensual pleasures for every witch and wizard.”

He wasn’t hesitating because he was a prude, of course, though he had never stepped foot into a shop of this kind. It was just that, though he was well aware of how his godchildren had come into the world, he tried his best to _not_ think about the sexual relationship of his best mates. Or any of his mates, honestly. Especially the female ones. So the fact that he was going to have to pick up an order for Hermione was a little off-putting, to put it lightly.

He shook his head, scoffing at himself for getting _nervous_ over a sex shop, and a classy looking one at that. He had seen worse things in his lifetime. All he had to do was go in, ask for Hermione’s order, and walk back out. Easy.

He laughed a bit, as he remembered Hermione’s uncomfortable expression earlier—now it made sense. Sighing, he grabbed the door handle, pulling it open and vowing to tease her later about making him do her dirty work.

Walking into the room produced an immediate immersion in pleasant sights and smells. The shop was obviously subject to an Undetectable Extension charm, as it was fairly large on the inside. Soft jazz played in the background. The floor was a clean cream color, the walls accented with berry-colored shelves, and a good amount of people roamed the aisles. He heard quiet chatter, but couldn’t make out any actual words—a privacy charm variation, most likely. That was nifty. He’d have to ask about it if he got the chance.

And then, there were the wares. Rows and rows of cream and golden shelves came level with his chin, and each different dildo and vibrator and ointment bottle was displayed on its own separate pedestal. He assumed most of the stock was kept in the back for the sake of aesthetic. The wall to the right had racks of lingerie, and there was an alcove to the left with whips and paddles on display. It was everything he had expected from a sex shop, though of course there was no collection of Muggle porn videos.

The tasteful displays left him feeling much more comfortable than he had expected. He wandered to the back of the shop, towards the counter.

The man behind the till was turned away, whistling cheerfully. He seemed to be fiddling with the price tag on a set of handcuffs. His clothes were modest—slim, dark muggle jeans with a charcoal-colored button-down—and if Harry wasn’t already 30 years old and if this were a different situation, he might have considered buying the man a drink, if only because the man had one hell of an arse.

And then he turned around.

“Welcome to Carnal Desires, where pleasure is our middle—oh, hello, Potter,” said Draco Malfoy, and Harry internally groaned.

“’Lo, Malfoy,” he replied, dipping his head politely. His nose twitched in annoyance.

He didn’t hate the man anymore, of course. The wizarding population in London was far too small for them to avoid seeing one another, and they had made their peace over drinks years ago. On top of that, Malfoy’s general rudeness and bigotry had lessened immensely after the war. He was now tolerable, if not downright grand to have around.

No, Harry was annoyed at himself. Because this wasn’t the first time he had seen Malfoy from behind, not registered whose blonde head it was, and considered propositioning him. They both frequented the Leaky with their separate friend groups, and Malfoy always seemed to pick the ( _sinfully_ ) tightest pants possible. So when it happened that he was in front of Harry in line at the bar, Harry’s libido skyrocketed. But of course, there was no way that he was going to open that can of worms with Malfoy, of all people. It was hard enough for him to connect with men who _didn’t_ have ugly histories with him.

“I was wondering when you’d come in here,” Malfoy smirked at him. Harry’s brow scrunched quizzically as Malfoy pulled out what looked to be a list, picking up a quill and making a tick mark on it.

“How’d you know I would?” Harry asked. “I don’t normally, y’know, shop for… this kind of stuff.” He shifted awkwardly.

Malfoy chuckled, presumably at his discomfort. The git. “Well, you’re the last one from our year at Hogwarts to come by, so I just assumed it would happen sooner or later.” He gave Harry an amused smile, crumpling up the list with long, slender fingers and Banishing it.

“Oh. That makes sense,” Harry nodded, trying very much _not_ to imagine Neville or Goyle or Hannah buying sex toys. “I never knew you worked in a place like this. I always assumed you were off making potions or something.”

“Work here? I _own_ Carnal Desires,” Malfoy raised his eyebrows smugly. “And I do make potions.” He walked out from behind the counter, slender legs carrying him to a nearby shelf. Picking up a tastefully labelled bottle of lube, he uncapped it and held it up to Harry’s nose. “Smell.”

Harry’s heartbeat stuttered slightly, both from the sudden closeness of Malfoy’s hand ( _those fingers_ ) and because of the pleasant smell emanating from the bottle. Breathing more deeply, he registered the scents of treacle tart, and broomstick polish, and the baby-powder-and-sweetness smell from when his godchildren had been infants... “It smells like Amortentia!” he breathed, grinning.

“Right, Potter! This is mine,” Malfoy smiled proudly. “I figured that Amortentia smelled pleasant to everyone; thus, it would be useful to make products that carry its scent. Without the pesky side effect of using an actual love potion, you know?” He held the bottle up to his own nose, his chest rippling as he inhaled. “Mmm.”

Swallowing hard, Harry tried not to notice Malfoy’s eyes fluttering closed. Nor did he stare at Malfoy’s mouth when his tongue swiped briefly out, just long enough to wet his lips. Harry’s thoughts had been tinged by sexual undertones ever since he had first seen the storefront, and now his senses had gone into overdrive. He suspected that Malfoy’s arse was the culprit.

“This is where the shop started,” Malfoy continued, jolting Harry out of his ( _lust-induced_ ) haze. “I sold my own line of Amortentia-scented lubes and massage oils by owl order. They were very popular, I’m surprised you haven’t heard of them by now.”

“That’s… actually quite brilliant,” Harry admitted, watching as Malfoy twisted the cap back onto the bottle. Vaguely wondering exactly how much money one would make running such a shop, he forcibly turned his mind to the task at hand. “Anyway, I’m here to pick up an order for Hermione?”

“Ah, I should have known. That’s in the back. I’ll just be a moment,” Malfoy set the lube down carefully so that the label was facing in the proper direction, then began walking toward the back of the shop.

“If you don’t mind,” Harry called out, flushing slightly. “Could you, ah, put it in a bag, maybe? I don’t really want to know about, y’know…” he trailed off deliberately.

“What, you don’t want to know what the Weasel and Granger are up to in the sack?” Draco waggled his eyebrows, then laughed as Harry shuddered. “Neither do I, but it comes with the territory,” he shrugged, striding off toward a door labelled “Employees Only”. “But I’ll protect your virgin eyes, don’t worry!”

Harry flushed. “I’m not a virgin!” he shot back, but Malfoy had already pushed through the door.

Harry shook his head, returning to the counter. What was that comment supposed to mean? Just because he had never ordered from a sex shop didn’t mean he was a bloody _virgin_ …

He only had to wait for a moment before Malfoy was back, carrying a medium sized paper bag with colors and text that matched the interior of the store. “That was fast,” he remarked.

“I don’t allow anyone else to mess around in the back room,” Malfoy explained. “Therefore, it is always well organized.”

Harry snorted. “Well, I would hope no one was messing around in the back room, considering what you sell here.”

Malfoy let out a sharp laugh. “Good one, Potter.” He looked Harry up and down for a moment, handing him the bag, and then suddenly grinned. “You know, there’s a first time for everything,” he hinted, waggling his eyebrows suggestively.

Harry flushed, fumbling and almost dropping Hermione’s order. Was he serious? “Er, I mean, I was just joking, Malfoy. I mean, I wouldn’t… it’s, uh, unprofessional,” he stammered. “Besides, why would you want to have sex with a supposed virgin?”

Of course, it wasn’t like he would mind, because he hadn’t gotten laid in quite some time, but his lunch break wasn’t _that_ long, and this was Malfoy. Even though the man had lost his racist ideals, he was still infuriating.

“I’m teasing, Potter,” Malfoy laughed again, and Harry wasn’t sure if he would ever quite get used to the sight of him laughing like that, his emotions entirely unconcealed. “I mean, you’re a toy virgin, are you not?” he raised his eyebrows.

Harry hesitated. “I guess so?” he shrugged. “I’ve never really thought about it.”

“It’s all right,” Draco grinned. “You should try it, though. Using a toy, I mean. It’s quite wonderful, if I do say so myself,” he quirked his mouth suggestively.

Flushing, Harry shook his head. “Maybe—maybe some other day,” he muttered. He needed to get out of here. He had left his robes in his office, and his erection was probably showing through his trousers. Resisting the urge to look, he turned away, eyeing the door.

“Go eat lunch. I could hear your stomach grumbling when you walked through the door,” Malfoy said, still teasing, still sexy.

Harry gave him a good-natured scowl. “All right, I’m leaving. Git.” He turned to leave, and Malfoy shot him a two-fingered salute paired with a slight grin.

-X-

The three sharp knocks that sounded on his office door caused Harry to raise his head from the endless paperwork. “I’ve told you, you don’t have to knock, you know,” he called, spelling the door open and shaking his head at Hermione. She walked in, carrying something crooked in her arm, and shut the door gracefully with a foot.

“It’s polite,” Hermione defended herself, eyebrows raised. “I wouldn’t want to interrupt your work without giving you a warning first.”

“Fine,” Harry shrugged. He then saw what she was holding—it was the bag from _Carnal Desires_. “Oh, bugger, did I accidentally pick up the wrong package?” he asked, alarmed.

“Oh, no, that’s not it!” Hermione flushed prettily. “My order wasn’t the problem. It’s just that I think you left _your_ order in the bag, so here…” she shoved the bag across his desk, face becoming redder by the second. “Don’t worry—I didn’t mention it to Ron!”

Harry frowned quizzically, taking the bag but shaking his head. “I didn’t buy anything,” he protested, looking at it with scrunched eyebrows. “It must’ve been Malfoy’s mistake.”

Hermione visibly relaxed, leaving Harry with the urge to laugh.

“Ah, Malfoy helped you out?” she asked. “He’s become very polite, hasn’t me? He helped me out a lot when it happened that the, erm, item that I wanted ran out of stock.” She pushed a few curls behind her ear, obviously a little embarrassed. “Do you want me to take it back?”

“No, I can do it,” Harry offered. “I’m fed up with paperwork anyway. I was about to go to lunch.” It wasn’t like he wanted an excuse to look inside the bag, and _certainly_ not because he wanted to see Malfoy again. After all, he had most definitely _not_ thought about Malfoy ( _those lips and hands and that arse_ ) while he wanked in the shower that morning.

“All right,” Hermione said, smiling brightly at him. “I was hoping you’d say so, I have another meeting this afternoon. Thank you so much for picking up my order!”

“Speaking of that…” Harry raised his eyebrows at her. “Really, Hermione? You could have told me what I was walking into!” he teased.

“But then you wouldn’t have done it!” she laughed. “Anyway, I’ve got to go, people to see, things to do!” She squeaked slightly when he tried to throw a balled up piece of parchment at her in retaliation, but she avoided it easily and ducked out of his office. The sound of their combined laughter filled his ears long after she was gone.

-X-

Harry was already on Crossings Way by the time he realized that he hadn’t actually looked in the bag. Perching on one of the many benches that lined the road, he looked around to make sure that no one was watching before pulling the bag out and peeking into it.

He recognized the first item he saw—it was a bottle of the Amortentia lube. He resisted the urge to smell it again in favor of gawking at the second item in the bag. It appeared to be a dildo, and was packaged in the thin layer of magic that had become popular among companies recently. However, its shape was unlike any of the dildos he had seen in the shop the day previously. Odd.

He closed the bag, curling it under his arm and resuming his journey. If he was very, very lucky, he thought to himself, he could return the items without having to actually talk to Malfoy—maybe he could simply look from afar?

Of course, luck was not feeling generous toward Harry today. When he walked into the store, Malfoy was kneeling in the front corner, straightening a long, yellow dildo on one of the shelves.

“Back again so soon?” Malfoy quirked his head up at him, slender fingers tightening around the shaft of the dildo as he shifted its magically-hovering position. _Fuck, that was hot._

“I, er,” Harry started, then cleared his throat, trying to disregard the lust that had begun to simmer in his groin. “There was an accident with the order—there were some extra items in the bag, and I’ve come to return them.”

Malfoy’s brow wrinkled slightly. “Here, let me see,” he held his hand out for the bag. Harry gave it to him, and he rifled through it quickly. “Ah, right. No, there’s been no accident.” He closed the bag, handing it back to Harry.

Harry took it, confused. “What do you mean?”

Malfoy stood up, brushing the dirt off of his knees as he straightened. A long, slow smirk grew on his face. (If someone had told an eleven-year-old Harry that Malfoy’s smirk would one day become the biggest turn-on of his life, he would have thought they were barmy.) “That was… a gift. To you.”

“To me? Why?” Harry gripped the bag a little more tightly, swallowing hard. It was impossible to deny it now—he wanted Malfoy. Seeing his long fingers circle the dildo had pushed him off the deep end, and he was now impossibly hard. Thank Merlin for baggy Auror robes.

“Think of it as a door prize. You know, for being the last one in our year to visit the shop.”

All right, Harry could accept that. His eyes flicked toward the door, his instinct to flee threatening to kick in. But… “What is it?” he asked, glancing down at the bag.

Malfoy took one, two steps closer, pulling the bag open without removing it from Harry’s hand. “This is a prostate massager,” he murmured softly. “It’s shaped specifically so that it presses against your prostate, unlike other anal insertion toys.” He had pulled the dildo out and was gesturing with it, licking his lips slightly. They were so close that Harry could almost feel the puffs of air from Malfoy’s lips as he spoke. Even the slightly clinical descriptions he was giving sounded like pure sex when combined with his smirking lips.

“I… I’ve never used a toy before,” Harry said, wincing internally as his voice cracked from want and need. “I wouldn’t know how…”

Malfoy grinned at him. “Well, Potter, I suppose you’ll need some help with that.” He dropped the dildo back in the bag, winking. “Are you free at seven tonight?”

“I—yeah, but,” Harry started.

“Good,” Malfoy cut him off. “I’ll be over, then. Grimmauld Place, right?”

Harry nodded jerkily. Then, Malfoy’s face was getting closer—was he going to kiss him? The blond’s lips moved closer, closer—then brushed along his cheek, toward his ear.

“I’ll see you there, _Harry_.”

And then he was walking away, leaving Harry slightly panting and in sore need of a wank.

What had just happened?

-X-

Harry paced in front of the fireplace. He was incredibly nervous—no, that was an understatement. He was anxious.

He was no stranger to having one-offs, since he was fond of seeking out Muggles when he needed company for the night. But not lately—his Friday nights had more recently been occupied with a cuppa and a good book. And he had never done this sort of thing with someone he knew, someone who knew _him_ , his history, almost as intimately as possible. Before, he had tried to censor his attraction to Draco for that very reason. Now, they were going to touch and kiss and have sex… The thought was kind of terrifying.

And anyway—were they just having sex, after all? Draco had been quite flirty, so it was feasible that he simply wanted to get laid.

But there was more to consider than their recent interactions. Because Draco had come to Grimmauld, once, the night when their tentative acquaintanceship had been formed. Both of them had drank entirely too much Firewhisky, and Harry had offered to let Draco sleep in a spare bedroom, since Draco’s flat wasn’t connected to the Floo. They hadn’t kissed or touched or done anything of the sort, but the conversation they had that night ranked in Harry’s eyes as one of the worst and best conversations he’d ever had. There had been accusations and apologies and secrets and smiles. Draco had shown him his Mark, his scars, and Harry had come to peace with them. The encounter had left him whirling for days afterward.

But the next weekend at the Leaky, Draco had only nodded his head in acknowledgement when Harry caught his eye. He had assumed that Draco wanted nothing more than to be casual acquaintances, and had left it at that. Thus had begun the three years of staring at Draco’s arse and pretending that he wasn’t attracted in any way to the other man.

He sighed, rubbing the hem of his shirt between his fingers. Draco probably just wanted to show off his expertise in bed. They would touch and kiss and fuck, and Draco would leave, and things would go back to normal…

…But Harry really didn’t want it to happen like that. He could admit that, now, after interacting with Draco like he had recently. The thought that there could be something more to this meeting drew Harry like a Boggart to an unused wardrobe.

He thought of the time, jolting out of his thoughts. What if Draco didn’t remember the exact Floo address? Maybe he was Apparating—would he be at the front door, instead? Harry glanced at the clock frantically. It was exactly seven o’clock. He had always pegged Draco as someone who would inevitably arrive early, so maybe he should go make sure that the entryway was empty?

He was just leaving the room to check when the fire flared green behind him. He turned around slowly. Draco’s shadow flickered briefly green, then orange, as he stepped out of the Floo. He brushed a bit of ash from his shirt, ran a hand through his hair, and smirked.

“Is there are reason your mouth is hanging open, Harry?”

Harry shook his head, shivering slightly at the casual way that his name fell from Draco’s lips. “Not really. I’m just… glad to see you,” he admitted.

“I would be too,” Draco raised his eyebrows. “Since you’ve never used a dildo, you should be plenty excited, especially since I’m rather good at it,” he winked.

Pretentious bastard. Pretentious, sexy bastard.

Harry strode over to Draco, keeping eye contact and hoping that his movements didn’t look _too_ stilted and awkward. Draco stood there, waiting, silver eyes beckoning for him to come even closer. Reaching out slowly, Harry slid his hands around Draco’s wrists and pulled the man flush against him.

Oh. That was good.

They stood there for a moment, feeling each other breathe and harden, foreheads almost touching.

“Ready, Harry?” Draco asked, and there was that little smirk again.

“Yeah,” Harry breathed, the lust in his blood more prominent than ever.

Draco leaned in ( _this was it, they were going to kiss_ ), lips brushing ever so slightly against Harry’s.

“Good. Bedroom,” Draco murmured, his breath warm against Harry’s mouth. Then, he pushed away.

Harry growled in frustration. “You’re a fucking tease,” he muttered, latching on to Draco’s wrist anyway. He pulled him out of the room and ushered him up the stairs.

Draco chuckled. “It’s more fun that way,” he waggled his eyebrows, nimbly avoiding the elbow jab that Harry sent his way as they crossed into the master bedroom.

Pulling the door shut out of habit more than anything, Harry began shrugging out of his shirt.

Draco’s expression became more serious. “Eager, are we?” he said, and then his long fingers made their way up to the buttons at his throat. He slowly, delicately pulled the buttons from their holes; Harry momentarily forgot about removing the rest of his own clothing.

“Do you have your present?” Draco asked.

Harry nodded slowly, motioning over to the nightstand. Trying to swallow around the lump in his throat, he continued to watch Draco remove his shirt, thumbing his own waistband. He let his trousers slide down his legs, leaving his pants for later.

Finally, Draco’s shirt was unbuttoned, and now he was pulling it off of his shoulders. Harry was unable to take his eyes off of Draco, off of the sleek skin that was being revealed every second.

“Want me to kiss you?” Draco let his shirt drift onto the floor, stepping closer.

“Fuck, yes,” Harry murmured. They moved to close the gap, and then they were a tangle of limbs and skin and they were falling onto the bed.

And then ( _yes yes finally_ ) there were warm lips pressed against Harry’s. He let out a slow press of air through his nose, emotions fluttering in his fingertips. He pressed his hands against Draco, feeling his shoulders, back, that firm arse.

He felt fingers wandering across his skin as well, gliding downwards, slipping under his waistband and tugging his pants off.

“Not—mmph—fair,” Harry murmured against Draco’s mouth. “You still have clothes on.”

“Scared, Potter?” Draco winked at him. Harry wanted to groan, both because of the reminder of their younger rivalry and because _Draco’s winking was really bloody sexy_.

“Shut it, you,” Harry grumbled, and pressed his mouth against Draco’s once again. He could feel Draco’s lips quirking against his as he struggled to yank Draco’s trousers and pants down all at once.

Freed of clothing, Draco motioned with his hand for Harry to turn over. Harry complied, eyes widening with lust and need, rising up onto his hands and knees. “Like that?” he asked, breathless.

“Mm, good,” Draco nodded, leaning over Harry to retrieve the bottle of lube from the nightstand.

As he did so, Harry could feel the other man’s cock press against his hip, and he whimpered, not caring if he sounded vulnerable and helpless.

“Have you bottomed before?” Draco paused by his ear, voice low and husky.

“Once or twice,” Harry answered. “I usually… top.”

“Well, that’s about to change,” Draco kissed his shoulder. “…because I always top.” Another kiss, this time on his back.

“Er… it’s not my favorite thing, bottoming…”

“Ah. We don’t have to actually fuck, if you don’t want.”

Harry nodded. That made it sound more appealing. “Okay. Erm… be gentle, then?” he swallowed, suddenly feeling very vulnerable indeed.

“I will. Don’t worry, you’re going to like what I do to you,” Draco murmured against his skin. “I’m very, very good at this. I’m going to open you up,” a kiss to his lower back, “…and make you wet and slippery, so that when I push the toy in…” A kiss landed almost on his tailbone. “…it’ll slide right in, and you’ll feel better than you’ve _ever_ felt before. All right, Harry?”

Harry felt a surge of blood flow to his groin. His hips jerked slightly, involuntarily, and he nodded. “…All right.”

Normally, he had no desire to bottom. Both times he had done it before, it had been hasty and rushed and, while sexy, quite painful in the end. However, something in the way Draco spoke and kissed and touch made him want it all, and want it quite desperately at that. He wanted Draco to open him up, to press inside… he moaned roughly as he felt a hand wrap around his cock.

“Don’t come yet,” Draco whispered, and Harry nodded, thrusting into the hand that held him. Draco let it continue for one, two, three seconds, before pulling his hand away.

Harry heard the telltale sound of a bottle being unscrewed, sighed contentedly as the scent of Amortentia made its way to him. He was pleased to note that at this moment, it did _not_ smell of his godchildren—that would probably have been horrifying. He wondered if Draco had put that in the formula, or if maybe the smell had simply been replaced…

“Ready?” Draco asked, and Harry felt slick fingers drifting against his tailbone.

“Yeah,” he said, shuddering lightly and spreading his legs further. Draco’s fingers slid down, finding his hole. He felt one of them pressing against him, teasing, questioning ( _yes yes he wanted it, yes_ ).

Draco’s other hand gripped his hip, holding him in place. Then that finger was pushing, the pressure quiet and intense. He forcibly relaxed, exhaling as the finger slipped further in and Draco began fucking him with it.

He wanted to grind back on Draco’s hand, but Draco was holding him still, so he had to settle for whimpering and moaning and swearing as Draco added a second finger, then a third.

“Do you want the toy, now?” Draco asked, fingers slowing and stilling inside of him. Harry took a moment to breathe, to let his head clear slightly.

“Yeah, I think so… yes,” he amended, because if the toy was going to feel half as good as Draco’s fingers felt now, then he most certainly wanted it inside of him. Preferably as soon as possible.

“Good,” Draco purred. Harry turned around, eyes roaming around Draco’s body as he leaned over to reach the nightstand once more. His lightly-toned torso, his full, hard cock—Harry wanted the other man more than he could remember having wanted someone in his entire life.

Draco had the toy and the lube, now, and was slicking the dildo with his already-sticky hand. Harry watched with undisguised eagerness. Resting on the bed for a moment, he palmed his own cock, hissing slightly as Draco leaned down and pressed a kiss to the tip.

It was too bad they had other plans, because the idea of Draco with his mouth stretched around him—and Merlin he needed to stop thinking about that, because he was already close to begin with.

Harry pushed his arse towards Draco again while Draco repositioned himself. Draco’s hand splayed over his hip, pulling them closer, and Harry again felt Draco’s cock brush briefly against him. Then, the slightly cool head of the toy began pressing at him carefully, gently. It wasn’t nearly as large as Draco’s cock, though slightly bigger than the fingers had been. And Harry wanted it.

“Be careful when this is inside you,” Draco warned. “It’s designed to press directly against your prostate. If it pushes in too hard, it can hurt, so make sure you don’t move too much, all right?”

Harry nodded his assent, and then Draco started pushing it inside of him. True to the blond’s word, it slid in easily, almost effortlessly, leaving Harry gasping and breathless.

And then, then—oh, that, that was good. It was right up against him, firm, and pressing in the very spot that made fire run in his veins, oh… Draco was only just barely moving the dildo, just enough so that it moved against his prostate again and again…

“Draco,” he whined, and Draco reached for his cock again, except this time his hand was slick with lube and Harry was lost.

It was only eight short seconds before Harry came, spilling out over Draco’s hand, almost crying from the pleasure. He felt his body wanting to collapse, but held himself up until Draco had a chance to pull the toy out.

He slumped onto the bed, glancing over at Draco, who was still hard and waiting—and he wanted him, still, except that he was so tired now...

“…Fuck me,” he whispered, rolling onto his back. Draco’s eyes widened as he pulled his knees up to his chest, exposing his slick hole once again.

“Fuck, Harry, yes,” Draco breathed, swallowing audibly. He slicked himself hurriedly, not taking his eyes off of Harry the entire time. When he was done, Harry spread himself wider, and then their bodies lined up and— _yes_.

It wasn’t like the toy had been—intense, fiery, and mind-shattering. This was intense in a different way, because it was Draco, _Draco_ was fucking him, was inside him. This man who he had known and hated and pitied and become acquaintances with and been turned on and seduced by… and who _wanted_ him, wanted him, Harry.

Draco’s lovely body began to tense, and Harry watched his face as he came apart. Never had he seen the man’s expression so open, so uncontrolled. It was beautiful and glorious and so was the cock that was spurting semen inside of him, oh, oh…

Draco slumped down beside him, and Harry uncurled (his back was going to _love_ him later), not sure whether to cuddle or to talk or to fall asleep.

“Tired,” he said softly.

“Me, too,” Draco mumbled. “Want me to leave?”

“No, stay.”

“Good.”

They laid there for a moment. Harry’s stomach growled.

“Did you eat dinner?” Draco turned to look at him, an odd expression on his face.

“Er, no,” Harry answered.

Draco squinted at him. “Why not? Weren’t you hungry?”

“Yeah… too nervous to eat, though,” Harry admitted.

“You nervous now?” Draco raised his eyebrows, reaching over and trailing a finger down Harry’s chest.

“When you do that, yeah,” Harry flushed slightly. Draco chuckled.

“Too nervous?”

“It’s manageable.”

“Well, come on, then,” Draco said, then rolled over and slid out of bed. He picked up his pants, pulling them up his slender legs, then started walking away.

“Where are you going?” Harry sat up, scrambling for his glasses.

“To find your kitchen,” Draco called, already out the door.

Harry grabbed his dressing gown and went after him.

-X-

Harry had tried to help him cook, honest. But Draco had shook his head and made him sit down and drink his tea (at least he had let him put on his own kettle. _Merlin_ , the git was bossy).

And now they were staring at the charred lump of what was meant to be bacon on the stove.

It had been a nice gesture, really, and Harry was beginning to feel lightheaded from the amount of fluttering that insisted on happening in his chest.

Draco frowned, poking at his wand, muttering to himself. “Why can’t cooking be like potions?” he huffed.

Harry grinned and Accio’d the takeout menu.

-X-

It was one o’clock in the morning, and Harry didn’t want to sleep. He wanted to talk to Draco.

They were curled up in the sitting room, in front of empty takeout cartons and the crackling fire. Draco’s head rested on his shoulder, his body wrapped in another one of Harry’s dressing gowns. Idle chatter came easily to Harry’s lips. He alternated between talking to Draco and studying Draco’s face, his body. The fluttering in his chest had mutated, transforming into little twinges of happiness in his throat.

Now that Draco had gotten what he wanted ( _the sex, of course_ ), he was less flirty, more genuine. The true Draco, the one that Harry had caught a glimpse of years ago, had emerged again. He was witty and smirked as much as he smiled and sometimes _casually touched_ Harry like it was nothing, and Harry was elated.

He felt like he could say anything he wanted to, and it would be all right. So he did—he told Draco about the Dursleys and about his troubles finding relationships, and Draco told him about Lucius’ last days, and how he had never been able to admit to his father that he was gay.

No accusations, no apologies—all of those things had already been said. It was just Harry and Draco, no additional baggage, and it was a different kind of wonderful.

Harry had made the mistake of asking what went into the making of the Amortentia lube, and now Draco was in the middle of a very complex discussion of potions theory. Harry turned his head and pressed a kiss to his lips, cutting him off mid-sentence.

Draco’s eyes widened, and he sighed into Harry’s mouth. “Thank fuck, Harry,” he murmured, and then kissed him harder.

But Harry pushed him away. “Wait, what?” he asked, eyebrows scrunching.

“What do you mean, what?”

“Thank fuck for what?”

“Well, you kissed me.”

Harry still had no idea what Draco was trying to say. “We kissed before, didn’t we?” he asked, feeling very confused.

Draco stared at him for a moment. Then, strangely, he burst into peals of laughter. “You are… the most fucking oblivious git I have ever met,” he shook his head, shaking with mirth.

Harry wanted to say that he was still confused, but watching Draco tilt his head back and laugh had caused the oddest squeezing sensation in his throat. Instead, he trailed his eyes over the smooth skin of Draco’s neck and the jut of his Adam’s apple, waiting for an explanation.

Slowly, Draco calmed himself. He sat up, turning to face Harry with a more serious expression. “Do you think I like you, Harry?”

Yes? What kind of a question was that? “Probably, seeing as we just slept together,” he answered, covering a yawn with his hand.

“What if we hadn’t just slept together? Would you still say I liked you?” Draco raised his eyebrows, his still-slightly-pointy face elongating.

“Er… maybe?” Harry had to consider that for a moment. They had been having a wonderful conversation, yes, but also Draco hadn’t really talked to him until he had stepped foot in the store, so maybe it was simply a matter of convenience. “I guess so?”

Draco nodded. “Well, good news, Harry. I like you.”

What was that supposed to mean? ‘Like’ covered such a wide scale of emotions, after all. He would say they were friends now, certainly, but—

Draco laughed again. “You are incredibly easy to read, do you realize? I _like_ you, Harry. Romantically. As in, I want to date you. And possibly have more incredible sex in the near future.”

Oh. _Oh._ Harry’s whole body was tingling. The urge to kiss Draco, to touch him, was growing larger by the moment, but he still had questions to ask. He settled for slipping his hand into Draco’s, intertwining their fingers ( _and this helped because if he hadn’t had an anchor at this moment, he might have floated off into the sky from happiness_ ).

“I like you,” he said in response, first of all, because that was most important. Then, “Why didn’t you… I dunno, try and ask me out or something?”

Draco squeezed his hand. “Subtlety, Harry. I’ve been hinting at it for the longest time, do you realize? Why else would I have purposely gotten in line whenever I saw you heading for the bar at the Leaky? I wasn’t sure you were interested; I thought I’d give you the opportunity to ask.”

Harry sighed. All of those times, he thought his attentions had been wasted, when really… “I’m an idiot,” he groaned.

“I know,” Draco deadpanned. But then Draco kissed him again, and he forgot about his stupidity and focused on those wonderful lips instead.

-X-

Harry dropped by Hermione’s office on Monday morning, partly to discuss some interdepartmental paperwork and partly to gossip with his friend.

“Oh, did you return that package?” Hermione asked, after a long discussion about whether Ron would be promoted to Head Unspeakable or not.

Harry leaned back in the chair that she kept specifically for him, steeling himself for a long explanation of why he was now dating Draco, of all people. “Er, right. So it turned out that it was mine. It was… a present.”

“From who? Malfoy?” Hermione asked, her face strangely calm.

“Yeah. See, it turns out… well, we’re dating, now,” Harry said, figuring he might as well put it all out in the open.

Hermione grinned. “That’s great, Harry!” she exclaimed, but the expression on her face was similar to the one that she held every time he and Ron threw a surprise party for her. It was the one that said ‘I already know, but I’m going to act surprised anyway, as to not hurt your feelings.’

“How’d you find out?” Harry asked, rubbing his chin. He was both relieved not to have to explain himself and a little disappointed that the news had been spoiled already.

“I guessed,” Hermione shrugged, tucking a curl behind her ear. “Malfoy—I suppose I can call him Draco, now—has been watching you for ages, if you hadn’t noticed. I just happened to let it slip that you were the most oblivious boy I had ever met when I went in to place my order…” she trailed off meaningfully, a twinkle in her eye.

“I should have known!” Harry exclaimed. He thought for a moment, then stood up, stepping over to wrap Hermione in a hug. “Ever since you became a mother, you’ve become quite fond of meddling,” he stated fondly.

“I only meddle when the opportunity arises,” Hermione replied. Without even looking, Harry could tell that she was smiling.

**Author's Note:**

> If so inclined, comment here or at [LiveJournal](http://dracotops-harry.livejournal.com/297344.html). Comments are ♥.


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